


Control

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Light BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Control

She kneeled over him, mostly dressed, but bare in all the right places for this. Rat was bound with Vishkar hard light shackles, but given that prosthetic arm he could probably shatter them if he really wanted. She could ask him to take the off and he would probably agree readily, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the request. No one but a few people had seen here without her prosthetic. It was injust to make the demand and not reciprocate. And she had no intentions of reciprocating.

Shirtless, sweating, fidgeting. Filthy, desperate, and eager. No matter how many times they agreed to do this the thrill never left. She placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed down with all her weight. Fingers spreading over his boney chest, Symmetra gave a tiny smirk. Rat giggled and shuddered as she slide her hand farther up until her forefinger and thumb slid around his neck. 

He bit down on his well chewed lower lip and growled at her, waggling his brows. He was as embarrassing in bed as he was the rest of the time, but right now she could squeeze. That took the sound away and replaced it with the ones he made that she preferred. Somewhere between a croon and a moan Rat writhed under her. She didn’t even need to palm him to get him up.

Sinking down a little the tent of his shorts grazed against her lips. This was the start of the game. She’d dry hump his hard on gently while keeping a hold on him. If she let up he’d buck desperately for more. Sometimes she’d let go to procure that reaction, let him grind hard up at her, then bear down again and hear him sputter in delight. Why he adored being choked was beyond her, but she also couldn’t really judge him when she adored doing it.

Stage two was when she’d finally let her weight down on his pelvis and let him take his breath back. Symmetra runs her hand up to his mouth and touches that dangerous maw. Teeth as sharp as his steel traps, slobbering and hot inside, she prodded his tongue, stroking his gum line as he worked under her. Bound and without much to push against, Rat would thrust up as hard as he could, whispering pleas through her fingers.

“Come on, come on, how much longer are ye gonna torture me? I hate waiting–“ Then she’d force more of her hand in shutting him up. But he never bit down, instead he’d lap at the webbing between each digit to coax her into letting him babble again.

Stage three, she would finally hold him down with her prosthetic arm. It had the strength to push down until he couldn’t take a breath. The kind of pressure she needed to take the time to tug down his slick covered shorts. And how he would whine. Feral noises rife with hunger. He could barely breathe but he’d pant and moan as she ran her hand over his cock just enough to lube him up with his own spit.

When she is kneeling over him again, he’s trembling, muttering and chattering things to her. She lets him because he’s so frenzied. Exactly what she loves most. Watching this anarchist who would break down her perfect vision for the world shake under her. All of that comes to a stop when she caresses his face slowly. She loathes meeting peoples eyes, but for this moment she doesn’t. He’s red faced and huffy, freckles hidden under the spread of blush. 

She doesn’t say anything, but the moment of gentleness is how she acknowledges him as an equal at least in her own mind. Maybe he understands, but more likely he’s worried she’ll leave him like this. She’s done it before when he was too rambunctious.

Finally she makes contact. They’re both boiling hot and just sliding the head of his dick against her clit makes her lips part. He jerks madly, trying to get more, but she’s barely out of reach. Now her hands are on his sides, thumbing his ribs and barely getting a grip through the sheen of sweat he’s worked up. But when she’s ready Symmetra holds down his thin gut and finally sits. It’s intense by now, enough to stop them both in their tracks. Hunching over, panting for the first time, she lets herself adjust to being filled.

She rocks gently, clenching and unclenching to feel that pressure in the right place. Junkrat is moaning louder than she would ever dream of doing and she loves it. And when she finally rolls her hips properly, he’s babbling. “You’re so good, you’re so hot I’m gonna die.” Strangled noises as she fucks him slow and heavy. She knows her body and his and leans in closer to grind her clit and against his pelvis. Her pace starts to pick up and his shoulders aren’t a good enough grip, she adjusts and fists sheets into her hands like reins so she can fuck harder. 

Freed from her bruising grip, Rat finally starts bucking back as hard as he can. It’s a monumental effort, but she likes that about him. He thrusts up into her violent and fast, threatening to throw off her rhythm. They’re close now, enough that he can her her quiet panting and abrupt moans when he fucks her right. She lets herself make these noises because he’s so god damn loud they muffle her enough that she’s not embarrassed to make them.

They’re dripping sweat and he’s grunting with every movement, it’s close now. She drops her weight fully and grinds hard and quick before curling over him with a short moan as she finishes hard, working herself to keep going by bouncing her hips while squeezing hard. Rat doesn’t dare move or even breathe. His is the only time she embraces him, head tucked into his neck as she squeezes out her orgasm. The sound of her moaning in his ear always wrecks him. He climaxes with a gurgling groan and pants his way through the afterglow. She milks him by gently grinding throughout.

He goes limp under her and she sits back up. They’re still connected at the hip, but they don’t acknowledge each other. That’s how she likes it and Rat isn’t going to fight it. Then when she’s caught her breath she gets up. She’s wet down to her knees and stinks, but it doesn’t stop her from acting as composed and perfect as she usually is.

Unlocking the cuffs, she rubs his wrist to get the blood flowing again while he lies there, exhausted. They always do this in his room even though it’s a mess, or maybe because of it? 

“If you feel unwell later tell me. There is no need to trouble Dr. Ziegler over a few bruises,” she says curtly. As she leaves, she nods and there’s a flicker of a smile. “Good night Jamison.” Rat grins madly, hearing a promise in her voice.


End file.
